


Xianna the Blue

by blivengo



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Based On a D&D Game, D&D Backstory, Dragonborn (D&D), Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Fantasy, Gen, RPG, Roleplaying Character, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blivengo/pseuds/blivengo
Summary: A righteous Dragonborn gladiator faces more than she bargained for...





	Xianna the Blue

                _None of these people understand…no one ever understands._ Xianna glares out at the crowd of drunken, depraved warmongers from behind the crudely barred gate of the even cruder coliseum where she stands, ready for her next unworthy opponent. She’s about to slip into a moment of self-reflection when the cracked bell that reminds her of someone beating on random pieces of refuse sounds, and the rudimentary pulley system raises the gate that was only theoretically holding her back. Suddenly, everything outside the immediate arena floor blacks out of existence – it’s just Xianna and a stream of oddly yellowing goblins that are frothing at the nose and mouth, and practically crawling over each other to be the first to taste the spiked tips on Xianna’s mace.

                In a display of strength meant to appease her beloved Blue Dragon Queen before combat, but often mistaken for grandstanding to the masses she mostly despises, Xianna performs a flourish with her mace and slams it violently into her shield four times:  once for the Blue Dragon Queen’s omniscient wisdom, once for her boundless flight, once for her unending, destructive breath, and once for her eternal grace and beauty. An ethereal blessing that’s known only to the dragonborn is granted, and the battle begins.

                The first of what turns out to be seven strange goblins essentially kills himself in his likely toxin-fueled eagerness for blood sport – he attempts to slide under Xianna’s defenses, but springs up with full force right as her triangular shield’s pointed base is hovering above his head. His soft skull all but caves in on impact, and he crumples into a twitching heap. The crowd explodes, probably not realizing the proper fighting hasn’t even begun, but instinctively cheering the sight of greenish ichor and death.

                Barely noticing the first casualty, Xianna slips effortlessly into the improvisational dance that is her gladiatorial routine. She crouches low, jutting her shield outward to knock back a distracted goblin that is licking his lips and staring at his fallen companion as if he is a banquet table while simultaneously driving her mace straight up into the chin of the next closest dupe, popping his head from his neck like children often do with haphazardly growing flower weeds. The ease with which these anomalies fall almost makes Xianna feel bad – almost, but they’ve challenged her, and thus challenged the honor of the Queen Mother; they’ve doomed to be mercilessly defeated.

                And so, the slaughter continues:  seeing one of their own decapitated so effortlessly does nothing to stem their oncoming momentum, nor does watching Xianna’s mace return from its upward follow through to slam into the left shoulder of another, snapping the twig-like clavicle and driving down to crush the unfortunate creature’s hip, virtually peeling the upper-left side of his body away like a rotten lemon. No, they just keep coming. And they just keep dying. The next two have their skulls crushed by alternating side strikes over the protective barrier of Xianna’s shield while the remaining goblin that wasn’t dazed by said shield earlier is psychotically trying to claw his way through it. She finishes him off by mimicking her opening ritual and splattering gore everywhere as mace meets shield with little resistance from the goblin between them. To this, the crowd rises and roars and slowly begins chanting, “kill him,” in an increasingly rapid crescendo. Xianna spits toward the center of the arena as if to say, “I’m not doing this for you,” but, as usual, the subtly is lost and the raucous merely swells.

                The final goblin is standing off to the side now, one eye swollen shut, ichor mixing with his nostril foam to create swampy green bubbles on his face. He’s flailing wildly in what appears to be slow motion, fighting off an invisible opponent, not even noticing Xianna’s approach. _What was done to these poor fools?_ The proud dragonborn of the blue flight drops her mace and shield and picks up the goblin by the shoulders, leveling his face with hers. Looking at her, a strange haze seems to clear in his eyes and he creeks, in his best attempt at the common language, “Help me?”

                Xianna’s own clear eyes narrow as her nostrils flare in agitation. “I’m sorry, this is the only way now.” With that, she drops the goblin to the hardpacked ground, pulls a weathered spike from his belt that he undoubtedly kept as a dagger, and stabs it through one of the pitiful thing’s already glazed over eyes. The throng is now stomping and clapping, whipping themselves into such a frenzy that fights are breaking out in the stands. Underpaid guards attempt to break some of them up, but mostly just become embroiled themselves. Xianna walks calmly back to gather her equipment, and heads through the once-gated opening where she originally emerged. Lazlo, the stout, light-haired, dark-eyed, organizer is waiting for her, beaming.

                “You were wonderful, simply amazing!” He’s out of breath, and sweating; clearly he ran down the stairs from his lofty viewing box to greet her.

                Xianna snorts. “I am done. Fetch my gold and rations and never look for me again.”

                Lazlo pales and begins stuttering through panted breaths, “b-but, y-you can’t! You’re my d-draw, m-my b-b-b-biggest performer!”

                “And you send me puppets!” Xianna growls, the electricity in her voice causes Lazlo’s hair to stand and sends ripples of goose flesh down his arms.

                “W-w-wha—”

                “Those were not contenders, they weren’t even themselves.” She leans in close, poking her finger harshly into the center of his chest. “You’re lucky I’m letting you live after that disgrace,” she says in a low voice so not to aggravate his well-paid, mercenary guards that are surely nearby. After straightening her stance, and pausing for a cleansing breath, she adds, “bring me what’s mine, now.”

                Lazlo, frightened and holding back tears, calls for a servant and has Xianna’s earnings delivered in a crude, threadbare sack. She grabs them roughly and, without another word between them, leaves the arena, and her gladiator career, behind. _I will find the path to honor you, Queen Mother, no matter where it may lead…_


End file.
